


Those Damn Hands

by Gayrob0t



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Gay ass robots, Idk erotic massage?, M/M, Who tf knows, baby's first fanfiction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-05
Updated: 2016-07-08
Packaged: 2018-07-21 16:06:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,151
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7394260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gayrob0t/pseuds/Gayrob0t
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Angsty asshole in a tin can falls in love with robot massuese. I don't know, it's gay robots what do you want from me</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Studying under Zenyatta wasn't a demanding apprenticeship, at least as far as Genji was concerned. Much of it involved visiting village after town after city after village, where the monk would stay with either someone he knew (he always seemed to know someone) or someone who knew him. Sometimes there were promises of lavish accommodations in sprawling apartments or guest rooms that could have been entire homes. These offers were usually denied, but once or twice, Zenyatta was convinced, usually when a family had a problem and they wanted to discuss privately or if there were literally no other option. This was one such occasion.

"It's a little embarrassing," he confided on the first day, the orbs about his neck spread out in the open space, orbiting him like lazy electrons. He stared out the large windows down the hillside onto the small village. The guest house belonged to either the Mayor or some elected official whose son had found enlightenment, or something, Genji hadn't asked many questions. Genji never felt like he had much to say, but that didn't seem to bother his master, who spoke rather freely, "I could reside in a broom closet, but they insist on these unnecessary amenities. It hardly seems fitting."

"Maybe they feel you deserve better than a broom closet," Genji had no real preference on his space as long as it was private, or at least had easy egress points. The house was suitable, a front and back door, high ceilings, mostly open floor plan and modest furniture. The large windows were the only problem, but not a bothersome one.

"I deserve no more than what I already call my own, everything else is a kindness and a gift." Genji scowled at the idea. He was somewhat lukewarm at some of the 'wisdom' he was granted, but he did greatly respect Zenyatta.

"I think you would at least deserve more than a broom closet, Master."

"Do you now?" Zenyatta considered this, and Genji suddenly felt his own embarrassment at being so candid, "That is kind of you, my pupil, but my place is among the people, not above them. Would you like to come see someone with me?"

\--

It was a sizable village, perhaps even a town, with winding stone roads and a market square. Zenyatta had obviously visited it before, as he drifted down the roads with relative ease, his orbs rotating around his neck freely. Genji, however, was starting to regret agreeing to come. This was a somewhat isolated community, and they looked very out of place in it. Everywhere they went, whispers seemed to follow. He could swear he heard hostile murmurs, or spied accusatory gestures, and the streets often had blind corners. An attack could come from anywhere.

"Are you able to drink, Genji?" The cyborg was torn from his paranoid plans of counter attack, coming back to the present reality where it seemed the murmurs had become quiet and the people's glances more incidental than aggressive.

"I'm- Excuse me, Master?"

"Is it possible for you to drink?" Zenyatta's gaze was scanning the top of the buildings, "I promised an old friend that if my next student could, I'd bring them to try her tea. It's highly recommended by the locals."

"It's...possible, but-" Genji stopped following to touch the plate covering his face. Zenyatta noticed his student and turned back, the orbs that had kept a quick pace slowed, spreading out.

"I see," the dip of his head could have been interpreted as pity, but Genji recognized it as understanding that his resolve to hide his face had not changed. "You needn't drink, but at least come see her with me."

Zenyatta's old friend turned out to be an elderly woman named Anya, and while she was disappointed that Genji couldn't try her tea, she made it anyway. Anya's home was fairly small, perhaps half the size of the guest home they were staying in. It was above her corner store, accessible by an outdoor staircase. It was fairly cluttered, but only in a lived in sort of way.

Genji sat on his heels, next to his master, already nervous. He was quiet as they exchanged pleasantries and caught up. Evidently Zenyatta hadn't visited in some time.

"I'm very sorry I could not make space for you this visit," she said over her cup, savoring the earthy smell of the tea, "My darling Sasha had twins, and they take up three times the space you ever did!" Zenyatta's laughter was deeply synthesized, but very genuine.

"Her apprenticeship went well I take it?"

"She married the man! I can't imagine how it could have gone better," Anya only seemed to be half joking, before she turned her gaze on Genji, "Speaking of apprentices, tell me more of your student! Strong and silent type, hmm?"

Her sudden attention took Genji by surprise, and he didn't realize that she meant for him to respond. Words failed him, but thankfully his gaping was hidden. Zenyatta laughed again, and Genji turned his gaze on him, knowing that his angry glare would go unseen, but hoping that, if looks couldn't kill, they'd at least be felt. His master quickly made a show of clearing his voice box,

"Genji is a man of few words." Anya smiled knowingly and, thankfully changed the subject. Genji spent the rest of the visit in silence.

It wasn't until after dark that the two wrapped up their exchanges. Anya insisted that they take some tea leaves with them, because, in her words, 'I may well be dead by the time you make it back. And then how will you keep your promise?' Zenyatta accepted them graciously, noticing Genji's growing restlessness and not wanting to prolong their good-byes much longer. However, before they could leave, the door burst open and two rowdy young boys stumbled in holding fishing poles and a collection of decent sized fish.

"Gramama! Look!" The first boy noticed his grandmother's unusual guests, and stopped in the door, but the second was unable to curb his enthusiasm before he ran headlong into Genji's leg.

Looking down, the cyborg found himself suddenly on edge. The already crowded room was now suffocating, and the looks on the children's faces was a mixture of fear and awe. He couldn't take being there any longer, and before anyone could react further, Genji had propelled himself through the open door, onto the outdoor railing and off into the night.

\--

He was laying on the hardwood floors of the guest house when Zenyatta found him. He stared intently at the ceiling, only glancing at his master when he hovered above his head.

"Are you alright?"

A good question. Genji certainly felt better after he had closed all the curtains and allowed himself to enjoy the isolation he had found. He couldn't think of a way to put into words what had driven him to run, but the panic he had felt had been very real. The fact that its trigger had been two little boys was almost shameful.

"I'm sorry, I don't know why I-"

"Not that," Zenyatta cut him off, pointing down at his student's leg, "That."

Genji lifted his head to see a fishhook had caught into the softer red synthetics of his thigh. It must have been from earlier. Reaching down, Genji ripped it out and ran a cursory scan of his systems. No damage that wouldn't take care of itself.

"Did you not feel it?" Zenyatta's question seemed ridiculous. Genji didn't feel anything. Not really. Not anymore.

"Why would I? It's not my real skin," he examined the hook he'd pulled from his thigh. It had bent a little upon entry, another bitter reminder.

"Most unusual." Zenyatta turned himself in the air, so that he laid parallel above his student, his orbs coiling tight around his neck. He studied Genji, his arms crossed in thought, "You must feel something, certainly?" The cyborg shifted on the floor, suddenly uncomfortable with the question, and in no small part annoyed.

"No," he discarded the fish hook and repeated the obvious, "Why would I?"

Zenyatta didn't immediately answer, instead, he took his student's hand, placing it on his middle compartment, between the wires and pistons that connected his hips to his chest. The sudden contact was the most they had ever shared, and something about it made Genji shift uncomfortably on the floor.

"Keep your palm flat, but push with any number of fingers, and I'll guess how many," he said, releasing the hand. Genji didn't get it, but did as he was told, pushing against his master. "Two," Zenyatta maintained eye contact, making it clear he wasn't cheating. "One. Four. Two, again, oh-" suddenly he pulled back from Genji's hand, levitating back into his cross legged position. "All five! That tickled."

Genji was speechless. His master could- he- "Really?" Was all he could bring himself to ask.

"No, not really," Zenyatta clarified, "I'm not aware of what tickling actually feels like, but I can certainly decide what such a sensation should be to me." Genji got up, moving to sit up on his heels as his master continued the sudden lesson, "My sensory nodes are a bit basic, and don't cover much area, but I can at least feel pressure and temperature. you should have a full range of sensations."

Genji was amazed. He looked at his hands, as if he could find the missing sensations by sight. When he realized he wouldnt be able to see such a thing, he looked back up to his master, somewhat helpless.

"Why can't I-? How do I-?" He wasn't sure what to ask first. Zenyatta placed a hand on his shoulder to calm him.

"Don't be alarmed, it's possible that it's simply unfamiliar to you. There is some calibration required," he pondered for a moment, the spheres rolling through the air as an idea formed. "I may be able to assist you."

\--

Genji mostly felt like an idiot, laying on his stomach, and also uncomfortable having hands on his back, even if he was confident Zenyatta wouldn't do anything damaging.

"This isn't going to work, I don't need-," his attempt to get up was stopped short, with Zenyatta leaning more weight onto his shoulders and forcing his chest back to the ground. He was deceptively strong.

"Now, now, don't give up so soon," Zenyatta hovered lower over his student's back so he could easily reach it, "I assure you, I am skilled in quite a few massage techniques. Try it once, and if you find it holds no value for you, we needn't try it again." Genji looked over his shoulder to see Zenyatta watching him closely, his hands poised and ready. It was ultimately his decision, but if the omnic was convinced it would help in some way, Genji couldn't deny at least a chance at it. He nodded and returned to his position, his head in his folded arms.

"Wonderful!" Zenyatta placed his hands on the metal shoulder blades beneath him, "Now, close your eyes and focus on what you feel. There should be some relay between your organic and your inorganic parts, you need only identify and allocate it."

Genji did as he was told and closed his eyes, trying to focus on what sensations he could recognize in this partially artificial body. He could feel his master's hands touching where his remaining flesh lay under metal plating and mechanisms. The feeling was, at best, incomplete, only really registering that there was something touching him, but little indication if it was hot, cold, sharp, flat or even how much pressure was being applied. From the area affected, and the patterns of movement, Genji could imagine metal hands, flat against his back, pressing down slightly as they moved in slow, rhythmic cycles up, down and back around, gently letting the body grow accustomed to his touch.

Time didn't seem to be much of a factor in Zenyatta's ministrations. He seemed more interested in being as thorough as possible, as if nothing were so important as the task before him. It was a while before Genji noticed the low hum that indicated his master was meditating on his work, so much so that Genji was starting to grow frustrated with his own lack of progress. He could feel something in the steady touches, but it always seemed just out of range, something he couldn't interpret. The hands were cold? Or were they? Information was relayed from the point of contact and transferred across boundaries from synthetic delivery to biologic interpretation, and Genji just couldn't figure out what he was missing.

The flat palms changed to fingertips that ran up his back, thumbs following the contours of his spine before moving back down his sides. Just as he was beginning to question if this 'therapy' would even work, deft fingers slid over his lower ribs.

Genji stiffened, his eyes opened and his breath hitched in his throat. A sensation clicked, clear as day. Zenyatta's touch wasn't as he imagined, but feather light, so much so that Genji was almost surprised he could feel it at all.

"Relax, don't fight it," his master's hands had stopped, resting gently on the small of his back, "take your time." Genji wasn't actively resisting it, but he was focusing so intently on it that it was starting to get hazy again. He was smothering the sensation, and he needed to relax.

Taking a deep breath, Genji closed his eyes as Zenyatta slowly went through his motions again from the beginning, letting him feel it anew. It seemed like every touch was a recalibration, as if scattered and frayed cloth were being smoothed down and laid back into place with painstaking dedication. Order was made from chaos he felt in his bones and it all just felt-

Good.

It felt really, _really good_.

Before Genji could parse or examine the pleasantness of Zenyatta's hands on him, they were gone.

"I think that is enough," his master sounded satisfied with his work, and rose further in the air to allow Genji to sit up before continuing. "I must return to the village before midnight, our host wishes to speak with me. You should take some time to reflect on what you've discovered here."

Genji bowed his head in respectful agreement, but in his mind he wondered if that was really a good idea. What he had 'discovered' didn't seem to be what Zenyatta had in mind. Part of him wanted to discuss it, to find out if there was something unusual or perhaps even wrong about it. Specifically the part at the end.

But as Zenyatta excused himself to allow his student some time to meditate alone in the large guest house, Genji said nothing.


	2. Chapter 2

Genji didn't mention the practice over the next few days, though he was uncertain what made him hesitate to talk about it, especially with his most trusted master.

Sometimes it was easy to put out of mind, like when he accompanied Zenyatta out to the village the next day. He apologized to Anya and her grandsons for his behavior, and was quickly forgiven. He met Sasha, who was very pregnant with her third child.

"Hopefully a girl," she had sighed wearily, watching her twin boys try to climb Zenyatta and catch his floating orbs, which always danced just out of reach.

However, things slowly changed as the days went on. Sometimes in the market square, or the edge of town, Zenyatta would place a hand on his student's shoulder and point something out to him. A shop that had changed owners, or a building that had recently been erected, or a tree he said he'd planted the last time he was here. Genji would nod, listening, but his mind would be on the hand that rested on him. Now that he could feel the weight of it, it seemed more solid, much more ever present. During his meditation, Genji found his mind wandering to the thought of his master's hands. How skillful, how deft, how totally in control and carefully dedicated they had been. Initially he could excuse his thoughts.

_I'm meditating on the experience. He told me to do so. To think of him is natural_

However, as time went on, it felt less natural, less innocent. He felt himself tempted by the memory of those hands. During a sparring session, he was more focused on the shape of his opponent's palms than where they were going, until they landed squarely on his chest and knocked the air from his lungs.

Still, he could pretend it was normal, at least outwardly. The more he thought about the hands, the more he wanted to be touched by them again, and the more he felt like it needed to be a secret. Part of it felt wrong, like how he would often watch his master's hands when he was supposed to be paying attention to some lesson about nature, or the cosmos, or people or something else that couldn't hold a candle to what Genji really wanted to know more about. Or perhaps it was because he knew his desire was for that pleasant sensation they had merely teased him with.

Fortunately (and unfortunately) there was a way to act on this obsession that was quietly consuming his mind.

Genji indulged himself on the fourth day. It was simple, all too easy. Zenyatta was in the common room of the guest house. They'd be leaving this place soon, and his master often spent more time meditating before a long journey.

"Master? May we meditate together today?"

Oh, so insultingly _easy_.

Zenyatta was happy to share the experience, even thankful for Genji's growing trust in him. Ulterior motives never passed his mind. Why would they? This was his student. Someone who was learning from him, who was dedicated to him. Meditation together was a natural progression.

Genji used these excuses in his mind, too, but as they sat together in silence, his eyes opened. He was very careful. Very still. His head moved a fraction of an inch, not unusual. A twitch. A momentary lapse in focus. He was thankful for his visor that hid his wandering eyes as they shifted from Zenyatta's face, tranquil, a perfect, still mask, down to his hands. He studied their every detail: The way the joints interlocked with his fingers. The pistons that controlled them. The flat planes, smooth curves, gentle corners, even the subtle wear and tear against the metal. None of it escaped Genji's gaze. He imagined them against him again. Roving in languid circles up his back, over his shoulders, down his chest. He tried to imagine how they'd feel on his face. Would they feel cold? Perhaps there would be a way to warm them against him.

With some alarm, Genji realized that he was heating up himself, to almost uncomfortable levels. This wasn't good. Zenyatta would see, he would know. Genji tried to think of a plan, a cover. This wasn't right. He shouldn't be lying to his master, but then he tried to think of what he could say about the truth.

_I'm sorry master, I got hot thinking about you touching me._

This only made the heat problem worse as Genji fought his sudden embarrassment. No, that was not an option. On top of the embarrassment, he could also feel a twinge of fear that the truth would eliminate any chance of Zenyatta touching him again. And now that he had indulged this far, he needed to be touched again. To feel him again.

A plan began to come together in his mind.

Genji sighed, finally releasing his steam vents and slouching slightly. He assumed a postured of resigned defeat.

"Is something wrong?" Zenyatta's concern was evident, and behind his mask, Genji could feel a quirk of a smile. This would be easy.

"I'm sorry, I find my thoughts," He paused, weighing his words carefully, "Elsewhere."

Not a lie. Zenyatta's head tipped in patient curiosity. Folding his hands (those hands) into his lap, he lowered himself to sit on the floor next to his troubled pupil.

"Tell me what's distracting you. You know I would help in any way I can."

' _In any way I can_.'

Genji could feel his heart trying to hammer away in his chest, to overheat him one more. He willed himself to calm down, but also to fidget a little. To seem nervous.

"I was thinking of your earlier lesson, about the sensations I should be able to feel," also not a lie, a very carefully worded truth. Zenyatta nodded a little, patiently encouraging him to continue, to elaborate. Genji turned his head away, but his eyes narrowed, closely watching the omnic's reaction, "I thought perhaps I was willing to try it again."

It was difficult to tell what went through Zenyatta's mind, especially now, as he sat motionless. It made Genji worry that perhaps his secret was discovered. Maybe he was totally transparent from the beginning.

"Is that okay?" There was a hint of real worry in his voice as the cyborg's stomach tried to tie itself into a knot. And for fuck's sake! he was starting to overheat again. Zenyatta seemed to realize he had been silent for too long.

"Forgive me! Of course it's okay," relief washed over Genji, "I was only surprised you'd asked so soon. I wasn't sure if you had actually enjoyed the last time."

He said it so casually. With such unassuming ease. Too easy. How was it _this easy?_

Genji released his steam vents again, to relax himself once more.

"I didn't mind it. I did discover something, and I'd like to try it again." Not a single lie. Maybe a sin of omission.

"When would you like to start?" Zenyatta sounded pleased as punch, his knuckles clicking as he flexed his mechanical fingers.

Genji's hidden grin almost made him feel guilty for taking advantage of his unassuming mentor. How could it be this damn easy?

-

Zenyatta started at the small of his back, his thumbs pressed down in a different routine that worked over false flesh covering real flesh that had wound itself into knots. Genji could feel the subtle changes in pressure as the digits worked their way up to his metal shoulder blades, tapping gently against them.

Good, but not what he wanted.

Patience was key here, and Genji relaxed into his teacher's touch, waiting for that pleasant sensation in each slow motion, each gentle and deliberate movement of those perfect hands. Their fingers framed his spinal column, moving upward and following its edges.

There

In the middle of his back, where his ribs connected, Genji picked up something extra from the sensory nodes. It was like a smooth shock to the system. Sudden but not overwhelming. Not yet. But as skillful hands moved up to his shoulders and grazing fingers probed up his neck, the sense began to build itself in waves.

Genji inhaled deep and exhaled in a sigh. Zenyatta made a pleased hum at this, proud at his pupil's progress no doubt. Genji felt a twinge of guilt, but it was quickly replaced by the rolling waves of pleasure as those (perfect, _so perfect_ ) hands traced over his sides, his hips and back up to his neck. Each time bringing stronger and stronger input from the sensory nodes. His hands tightened into fists and he ground his teeth, letting it all wash over him.

It was so, _so good_.

But Gods in Heaven and demons in Hell, it wasn't enough.

Though Genji could feel himself getting warmer and warmer, the waves seemed to have reached their peak with this particular routine. Each new wave only reached that plateau where it demanded to break in some release that he couldn't give. He wanted it. He needed that release. He needed Zenyatta to give it to him.

But That would give everything away. Trapped in a box of his own making, Genji actually let out a sound of frustration, releasing the built up heat. Zenyatta's hands stopped, and lifted from him, which was the opposite of what Genji wanted but probably for the best.

"Are you alright?" Genji turned himself over to look up at his master, hovering a few inches above his stomach now. His hands rested comfortably on his knees and orbs circling in a wide, slow orbit.

"Yes, I- Too much, I think." Ah. A lie.

 _It wasn't enough. I want you to touch me again. More. Everywhere. Please, I need it_.

Genji laid still on his back, not allowing any body language to belie his true thoughts. Zenyatta drifted to sit by his side, cautiously lifting a hand to hold it in both of his. Genji faintly registered that they felt cool to the touch. They were probably the same temperature he normally maintained, but in his current state, it was soothing.

"My apologies," the omnic rubbed the sides of his thumbs against his student's exposed wrist, almost absentmindedly, and Genji felt a sudden shame that doused all of his frustration. "We may continue in the future, if you feel it would help."

Zenyatta was sincere, placid, calming and reassuring. It made Genji feel sick to stomach. His sin of omission felt much bigger now. He wondered how he had thought of this as easy. He wanted to tell Zenyatta everything. Right then and there, but instead he only nodded.

"It is helping. I will think on it," Lies, again. They were suddenly so much easier than the truth, which only seemed to stick to his tongue and taste bitter in his throat. But the lie was enough for Zenyatta, and as he was left alone to his thoughts, Genji could only lay helplessly, staring up at the ceiling and trying to formulate some way out of this corner he had firmly wedged himself into.

_Idiot_

_Stupid. Stupid. Stupid._


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loud shrug

Genji spent the last few days in the village trying to put some distance between himself and his master. If he wasn't training, he was silently attempting meditation. He would make excuses not to talk, or put off lessons. He would have feigned illness if he thought he could get away with it. Zenyatta didn't question or press the issue. He seemed to have some final business to take care of with their host anyway.

On top of physically staying away, Genji tried to keep his thoughts occupied by literally anything but his master, or his damned hands. This usually meant his solo training lasted long and became much more strenuous. He taxed his body and pushed his limits as far as he could, until he could lay down to rest and instantly find a deep, exhausted sleep.Regretfully, every distraction dissolved on the day of their departure. After saying their good-byes,(Sasha cried, Anya insisted on sharing more tea) master and student were alone on the open road.

The air between them had become stiff and uncomfortable to Genji, and if Zenyatta felt the same, he didn't say so. The time spent traveling used to pass so quickly in an exchange of ideas and wisdom and teachings, and was one of the parts of his apprenticeship he looked forward to, but now the time only passed in agonizing silence.

The weather wasn't much help. It alternated between being punishingly hot in the day, and heavy night rains that blanketed the land in darkness and water. The mosquitoes thrived in this climate, and while they didn't pose much threat to a cyborg and an omnic, their irritating buzzing and dense clouds made them formidable enough.

After three solid days of walking, as the sun was starting to set, Genji considered that they would likely have to stop to rest out in this heat, which never quite lifted, even after nightfall. His endurance was really being tested, but there was nowhere to stop on the long muddy road. He was starting to miss the guesthouse. His steam vents opened to try and cool off, but it didn't really help, and his body felt sore from his aggressive training. Zenyatta wasn't fairing much better. Even with all his discipline and self control, the elements were relentless. Steam rose from his own vents, albeit much less than his student, and there was an ambient whirr of some internal cooling fan.

When the sun finally passed under the horizon, Genji, dropped everything, sat down on the ground, still warm but cooler than the stagnant air, and refused to get up.

"Just a moment's rest," he insisted, fumbling with his face plate to unlock it. The heat inside was almost unbearable by this point, and the air was suffocating. When the visor finally lifted and the mask was removed, Genji kept his head down, hiding his face in the dark. Zenyatta watched, waiting patiently for his pupil. His orbs had been sluggish all day, but were starting to pick up some energy in the cooling air.

"Would it be easier to attempt to wait out the weather?" He asked, lifting the provisions bag Genji had dropped. It was a while before he got an answer as Genji weighed the option and caught his breath.

"No, just continue as usual," Genji replaced his mask and closed the visor before standing back up. As he took the bag back from his master, he willed himself to not look at his hands.

"Very well," Zenyatta gazed up the dark road, evaluating their route, "I would like to at least find cover before the next rain. I'm not as water tight as I used to be."

\--

Though not in time to avoid the rain, they did find some cover. It looked to be an abandoned bus stop, the wood damp and moss eaten, and half of the roof had caved in. However, the other half kept enough of the rain out that both master and student sat on the remaining wooden bench, dripping wet and watching the road.

There wasn't much space between them. In fact, when Zenyatta opened up their bag to rummage through it, he brushed up against his student with a small click. Genji kept his mind hyper focused on the sound of the rain overhead and endured, even as his mind tried to wander. His master had pulled out a small rag and was drying the more exposed joints of his system. Shoulders, elbows, hips and ankles. Each and every time he moved, he glanced against his student, and at one point Genji felt like he was actually being leaned against.

Unable to take much more of it, Genji stood up and rested against the standing wall of the bus stop, giving both of them more space. He didn't sit back down, even as Zenyatta finished.

"Is there something on your mind, my pupil?" The question took Genji by surprise, though he cursed himself for not anticipating it. They hadn't had any in depth talks for several days now, and there was no doubt that they should have. He regret putting all of it out of mind instead of trying to think what he'd say in this situation. He turned his back to his master, watching the dim green glow that he himself illuminated the small space with.

"I was just reconsidering the value of that broom closet." Zenyatta's laughter was a relief, because it was loud and genuine and just like before. Like nothing was different, like Genji wasn't a liar and wasn't fighting a knot forming in his stomach. For a moment, he found the tension in the silence had lifted.

"Yes, it does certainly seem like the better choice now." Zenyatta chuckled a bit more, before he was quiet. Genji was both glad and anxious that he hadn't been pursued any further. Part of him just wanted to be forced to say it. To say what kept haunting him and drove him away from the teacher he couldn't leave and wouldn't want to anyway. And at the same time he dreaded every moment between now and then. Between this almost comfortable silence and the agony of the imagined reaction Zenyatta would have to the truth. And then finally there was that traitorous part of Genji, the part that only wanted to be touched again, for any reason. However small it was, it seemed to rule over him.

Suddenly the space was illuminated and warmed by golden light, and there were hands touching him. Simultaneously a sweet dream of relief and a devastating nightmare, Genji almost threw himself back out into the rain as the golden hands laid gentle palms against him. Zenyatta had entered the Iris, quiet and thoughtful as he used the warm hands to dry his student with careful, almost ethereal touches. And though Genji wanted desperately to hate each and every one of those hands, there was peace there. Solid tranquility and balance chased after water left on his face and chest and arms and legs and made him both despise and love every moment. Each appendage seemed focused and dedicated to its task to comfort and placate, leaving Genji feeling totally at ease. And then they were gone.

The nine dots on his masters forehead went from golden to blue as the hands vanished, before they dimmed slightly.

"Rest, you can tell me what really troubles you in the morning."

Finally. His master would not let him be evasive much longer. He would be forced to speak the truth and end this internal conflict. The obvious dread weighed heavily on Genji's mind. The truth would ruin everything. The disappointment would have to be something he'd face. Sitting against the wall, Genji gave up trying to avoid his thoughts and obsession. The golden hands were too fresh in his mind, and, even though their power was fading in the dark, he could still imagine the peace they brought to him. For at least a little while, he was able to sit with his back to the wall of this barely standing bus stop, and let the sound of rain lull him to sleep.

\--

Genji woke in that strange transitional moment where the sky is a dark, heavy blue, but all is still shrouded in black. The rain had stopped, and besides the occasional drip and a few early birds, the world was quiet. He sat up from his position against the wall, his knees and back stiff, to find Zenyatta was still sitting on the bench, but in standby. He hadn't woken yet.

There were a lot of things Genji knew he should do. He should stretch, go exercise, maybe even wake up his master so they could begin traveling before the sun rose and started to bake the land. But rather than do any of that, as the world slowly started to lighten, he sat down in front of the bench to look up at the omnic, quiet and still. There was an idle hum from deep in his chest, as some processes never quite stopped, but everything else laid heavily on the bench, slouched like a doll that hadn't been wound, his spheres coiled tightly about his neck. It made his master look so much smaller and-

_Vulnerable._

Genji almost recoiled at the thought. Of all the things he thought Zenyatta to be, vulnerable was never something that crossed his mind, even when he took advantage of his good faith. Genji felt an overwhelming need to make up for his mistake. For his lie and his avoidance. With a heavy sigh, he unlocked his face plate to gaze on the omnic with clear eyes.

"I'm sorry," he was very quiet, still not sure what he wanted to say, or how he would explain himself, and even as he thought about how to admit he had a problem, he still couldn't stop himself from touching his master's hands. "I just wanted-" His fingers curled around the heavy, immobile, metal ones, hoping to find some kind of answer there. What did he want? Certainly nothing he wanted had really been worth the cost of the anxiety that gripped him.

"I thought that- maybe I could be satisfied with just-"

Damn. This wasn't going well, and Zenyatta wasn't even listening yet. Genji tried squeezing the hand, but when it didn't present a solution, he laid his head in the still lap and listened to the quiet vibrations that was something akin to a heartbeat. It was a sign of life. It was a small comfort.

"I'm afraid," he finally admitted, "Afraid that you would leave me behind, or that you'd be disgusted with me, or ashamed. I can't stand the thought of being rejected by you." Perhaps that would be enough? Probably not, but the comforting pressure around his fingers and the hand on the back of his head was reassuring enough that everything would be okay.

_Oh_

Genji suddenly found himself very interested in the fabric of Zenyatta's pants, not daring to look up or even move. He desperately wished his face was covered so it at least wouldn't be obvious how absolutely mortified he was to be caught like this.

"I would never reject you, Genji. You are my beloved student."

Oh no, oh no, oh no, this was not going to help, especially the way he pet his neck and how his thumb made gentle calming strokes across the back of his hand and everything was getting worse

"You don't understand!" Genji lifted his head, though he couldn't bring himself to tear his hand away. "I've been..." What could he say in this moment? He wished he didn't feel so naked, but putting the mask on now would only put more distance between them. If he were going to do that, Zenyatta wouldn't have to reject him, he might as well leave on his own. But he couldn't figure out where to look, or even what to do with his other hand. "I've been wholly inappropriate."

He felt so stupid, and his free hand found a purpose in hiding his mouth, trying to maintain at least some composure. Mixed results, as Zenyatta only peeled the hand from his face to hold on to it as well. Genji could only stare at the ground, a guilty child facing judgement.

"I've witnessed no such thing, Genji, you must tell me why you would think so."

He had to tell him. And still words failed him. He was totally at a loss when trying to organize his thoughts and bring himself to admit that he just needed those hands on him. Those beautiful, skilled, perfect hands. They were holding his, and as Genji looked down on them and curled his fingers, he could feel their smooth curves, those soft edges and their cold surface all tinted blue in this early morning light. He loved them. Every inch, inside and out, he doubtlessly loved.

The beginning was as good a place to start as any.

"I thought, for so long that there was something I would never experience again, that I never could experience again," Every word seemed to come out a bit shakier than he intended, making him desperately wish he at least still had his face covered. "And I'd accepted it and put it out of mind, but then you just...you just gave it to me, Master Zenyatta, and I can't put it out of mind again." Admitting to it was cathartic, and Genji almost immediately felt an accepting resignation, which was infinitely better than the anxiety it replaced. "I thought that if you knew my...less virtuous goal, you wouldn't approve. And so I tried to stay away, but so far nothing's changed and now I'm at the end of my rope tied to these hands, and I can't bring myself to move on."

Zenyatta was silent, and even the comforting motions of his hands had stopped. In contrast, his orbs hopped over one another, switching places and dancing in and out of line as if trying to decipher some complex riddle his student had presented him with.

Finally, as the sun was cresting over the horizon, he said, with all the patience and care he could, "Is...is that all?"

 

What?

Genji was speechless.

_What?_

He stared down at the hands he very much wanted after, so much that it seemed to consume his being, then back up at the face that seemed to shine in the early morning light, disbelief written clearly across his scarred face.

"'Is that all?' It's been a waking nightmare, and constantly on my mind! I lied for it! And it-" Genji couldn't bring himself to believe there wasn't some kind of problem here. "It didn't seem to be the kind of lesson you had meant to teach." Had it all really been just some overblown nonsense that didn't exist outside his own head?

Zenyatta measured his words carefully, turning his student's hands in his own to inspect them, his spheres suddenly less restless.

"If there is something that I can do to help you, Genji, you don't have to lie, you need only ask. I had hoped to show you that you are not nearly as trapped in your new body as you would think." There was a moment of silence, where Genji realized his teacher was trying not to laugh . "I'll admit I am actually a bit relieved. This was not at all what I expected."

"You're-" The words were barely whispered, as the breath had been taken right out of Genji's lungs, "Relieved?" The tweets of morning birds mixed with his master's words that echoed in his mind, making sense of them and how they reframed everything. Zenyatta made it seem so simple, the answer so incredibly obvious that it was difficult to wrap his head around in contrast to the convoluted nightmare he had devolved into. And while Genji's mind was reeling, metal hands pressed against his face, tracing the hills and valleys of each scar there.

"A storm that can be calmed with a single touch is one I would readily welcome." The hands on his face fell to rest on his shoulders, "So, is there something I can do for you, Genji?"

The apprentice was still sorting through his thoughts, which hadn't quite regained their composure or even really accepted the current state of affairs. And so Genji didn't even realize he was speaking until he heard himself.

"I was hoping for more than just _a single_ touch of these hands."

No one moved for what felt like a long time. Each second that stretched out between them was another shade of deep scarlet rushing to Genji's cheeks.

_That was dumb. Stupid! So stupid! Just lay on the side of the road and hope crows rip out your idiotic tongue_

He was brought out of his thoughts by the sound of an internal cooling fan kicking on, and Zenyatta was suddenly much less difficult to read. At least Genji wasn't the only one losing his cool.

"It is a bit inconvenient. This location isn't exactly ideal," he said, not unkindly, and Genji found his mind returning to even even as he was being pushed down to the ground. Oh, this was certainly a development he could get behind. The grass beneath his back was cool and wet, and he could see the quickly lightening sky. He expected Zenyatta to hover over him, as he had before, and while the omnic did spend a few moments suspended in the air, he introduced another twist when he straddled his student's hips.

Genji kept his mouth shut.

How radiant he looked in the golden morning light, which illuminated the shack of their dilapidated cover into a temple built collaboratively between nature and mankind. A temple that may have well have only existed just to house this almost divine being that had come down specifically for the sake of Genji's own indulgence. One to which he would gladly pay tribute. But if seeing Zenyatta against him was a religious experience, then he was already long dead and in paradise when hands began to roam down his chest, unperturbed by plating or machinery.

The intentions of this exercise were markedly different, and so too was the technique. Rather than broad strokes that brought out each sensation to be laid back into place, Zenyatta traced each and every divot and edge, mapping out where he found the desired reaction. He took stock of everything he found: a sound here, a twitch there, a slow arching of the back, no reaction was too small to be dismissed.

With all of his worries put aside, Genji was free to give him all the reactions he could possibly need. Initially, as Zenyatta familiarized himself with the intricacies of his body, he only made small breathy gasps, but as each hitch in breath earned a lingering touch on an especially sensitive node, it wasn't long before quiet moans filled the open air. And while Genji hadn't planned much for being straddled, he found great value in the position when Zenyatta's hands wrapped his waist and fingertips pressed expertly underneath him, against the small of his back.

_Oh!_

He would have been embarrassed by the shamelessly lewd sound that escaped him in that moment, if he hadn't been preoccupied with grinding his hips up into his master. Zenyatta didn't give him a chance to feel ashamed, instead opting to use the lifted position find another sensitive node near his pelvis. It was like a shockwave through Genji's system, one that set every nerve on edge and left him grasping it his master's knees for something grounded.

Zenyatta gave him enough time to catch his breath, but no more. He'd found another sensory node at his ribs, and then another near his collarbone, and then another at the base of his skull, and still another under his jaw. Masterful work of fluid movement and perfect timing kept Genji on edge, a shock running through his system with each touch, and all he could do was hold tight to Zenyatta's thighs and press up against him, trying to grind his way through all the mounted tension.

When it was starting to get to be too much, he covered his eyes with an arm, partly from his own embarrassment and partly to force himself into the dark where all he knew was each hand against him, each moment he gasped for air and, through it all, the gentle hum of his master's meditation. And then metal fingers slipped over his lips and pressed against his tongue just as more still found their final mark.

With a groan, Genji bit down on the fingers as he arched off the ground, unable to control the tightening of each muscle or see beyond the static that suddenly filled his mind. There was a final shockwave that felt like it invaded every inch of his being, scrambling every bit of sensory data he had built up into deposits of dead weight before it all cleared into a state of zen that Genji hadn't felt for some time. It wasn't until he had fallen limp and still, save for the occasional shiver, that Zenyatta removed his fingers from his mouth, craddling his student's face and leaning down close, studying it in his afterglow.

"Beautiful, you're simply beautiful," The omnic touched his forehead against Genji's, and since he hadn't yet recovered his breath for a retort, Genji kissed his face. It wasn't a quick one, either. No, as Genji's hands slid up his master's thighs, his lips lingered. And then, for good measure, he kissed him again.

"That's my line," a bit breathless, but mission accomplished, Zenyatta couldn't help his steam purge and Genji was really starting to appreciate leaving his master speechless, to which his shit eating grin could no doubt attest.

Zenyatta sat up, turning his gaze up the road, already his mind was on the future. Genji took the time to appreciate his profile from below, studying the curves of his face, neck and shoulders, as he'd previously studied his hands. He wasn't going to feel guilty for it this time. Not when he could still feel those robotic thighs against his hips and those hands on his face.

"I expect your form to be impeccable today," Zenyatta said, finally lifting from on top of his student. Genji laughed. Clear, loud, genuine. Strength was returning to his limbs quickly, unhindered by stress or worries.

"Of course, Master." He picked up the provisions bag and his mask, feeling the heat of the day getting its start. "But tonight, might I try this highly recommended tea?"

It was Zenyatta's turn to laugh. As they started down the road, student and teacher engaged in an exchange of ideas and lessons as they always had. They hardly noticed the heat.

**Author's Note:**

> Ye my first fanfiction in a long time. At least my first public one. Im only sure of three chapters right kow but there may be a fourth.


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